Tag: morning


The Soul of Poetry

Please,
take me back
into the soul of poetry.
This is my prayer.

Geese fly overhead.
I hear,
I open the window to hear.
I open the door to see
countless, three long diagonal processions
one after the other.

Cold moves across my fingers.
The sun is low and red …
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The Wordless Place

On good mornings, I wake
and start with faithful work
to build the wordless place:
two mugs of coffee, two slabs of butter,
cushioned space where a body
can recognize itself.

I do not think
therefore I am not
a hero or a failure
or a laborer
or a mind …
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In the Morning

I swear
bipolar disorder is worth it
just for the mornings
unforeseen, undispellable
underwear dancing.
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Bitter Mornings

Somehow after I concede
to the indulgence of breakfast—
that is, food and time
spent with buttered coffee
and a quiet soak in the pool
of my sadness and anger
and melancholy longing,
slow and still enough
to watch the mud settle—
I feel like myself
and I can't quite …
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Conspiracy

Here in the place you left, I stay
vigilant through the days of your absence
and begin to notice
a pattern: slight but unmistakable
suggestions, unlikely coincidences
among the day's arrangement of smiles,
daylight, flashes of delight.
Here in the place you left
longing, a conspiracy vast
beyond imagining takes …
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